Project Drive Megatron Insane
by Ariel D
Summary: Jazz gets captured by the Decepticons and decides to use his time to drive Megatron insane. An unwitting Starscream is more than happy to join in the fun. G1verse.
1. Chapter 1

**Project Drive Megatron Insane**

By Ariel-D

_Description: Jazz gets captured by the Decepticons and decides to use his time to drive Megatron insane. An unwitting Starscream is more than happy to join in the fun._

_Disclaimer: Transformers is the property of HasTak. I am making no profit from this story and no infringement is intended. Likewise, all quotes from songs and television shows are the property of their respective copyright holders._

_A/N: From reading TF fanfic, I quickly realized I need to define my time units:  
A breem is 8.3 minutes.  
A cycle is 2 hours.  
A solar cycle is one day.  
A stellar cycle is 1 year._

_//comm. link talk//_

**Chapter One: Megatron Gains a Phobia-Music**

Jazz held in a sigh as Skywarp and Thundercracker hauled him into the _Nemesis's_ brig. The endless grey walls, offset by the occasional dull purple panel, might as well have read "BOREDOM" in capital letters. In fact, Jazz thought the walls should say "boredom" in every Earth language that _used_ capital letters.

"_Ennui,_" he muttered, ignoring the seekers escorting him. "_Langeweile, noia, enfado, aburrimiento-_"

"Shut up!" Skywarp jerked his arm.

Although he wanted to annoy Skywarp on purpose, Jazz bit back his reply as Thundercracker opened the blast doors on his cell. Unceremoniously, they dumped him inside, but he just smiled at them. "I thought ya woulda learned several vorns ago that using me as a hostage is a waste'a time. Tryin' ta keep me locked up, period, is a waste'a time."

"Maybe you're here for our amusement," Skywarp replied, smirking.

"Knock it off, you two." Thundercracker shook his head and hit the control to close the blast door.

For a moment, Jazz stared at the gray door with-yes-two dull purple panels in it, and then plopped on the cell's berth, crossing his arms behind his head as he lay down. Deciding to make the most of the situation, he grinned and launched his considerable imagination. After all, Mirage had planted a short range communications device in the _Nemesis_ almost a stellar cycle earlier for the purpose of allowing captured Autobots to communicate with each other while in the 'con base. The device was one of Wheeljack's inventions, tailor-made to overcome the comm. blackout of the brig; it circumvented the block on the higher frequency internal and long-range comm. links by using a lower frequency sound wave. Jazz chuckled darkly and initiated an uplink with the device, and then he proceeded to download several choice songs and sound bites he'd recorded in his databanks from Earth's various radio and television broadcasts.

And so it was that Jazz began Project Drive Megatron Insane(r). "Hold on to yer afts," he told his unwitting and oblivious audience. "This is a Jazz Exclusive, putting the 'special' into 'Special Ops.'"

* * *

Megatron first realized all was not well when the theme song for _The Brady Bunch_ began to filter through the PA system. Glancing up from his desk, he glared at his computer speakers. Was it another prank by Skywarp? He'd caught the idiot watching the asinine human TV show three solar cycles earlier and put a stop to it, so it could be a childish form of revenge.

Unamused, Megatron opened his comm. link. //Megatron to Soundwave. Where is that blasted song coming from?//

A pause. //Source unknown. Searching comm. system.//

//Well find it and shut it down immediately!// Megatron closed the link and sighed. Skywarp was occasionally useful, but he was also terribly immature.

_". . . All of them had hair of gold, like their mother, the youngest one in curls."_

Rubbing the bridge of his nose in an unconscious human gesture, Megatron tried to tune out the noise and continue reading the report Shockwave had sent him on modifications to the space bridge: _Less energy can be utilized through the adjustment of the phase variance between the-_

The song suddenly grew louder. _"Here's the story of a man named Brady, who was busy with three boys of his own . . ."_

Megatron punched open his comm. link again. //Soundwave!//

//Source of interference still unknown,// came the reply. //Accessing security monitor footage.//

//Hurry up.// Megatron killed the connection again and returned to Shockwave's verbose report. _Less energy can be utilized through the adjustment of the phase variance-_ Megatron growled. "I already read that part!" Collecting his patience, he tried again, but the song crescendoed: _"That's the way we all became the Brady Bunch! The Bra~dy Bunch! The Bra~dy Bunch! That's the way we all became the Brady Bunch!"_

Silence filled the room as the song ceased, and Megatron felt various cables in his shoulders and neck relax. Finally, he could concentrate. He turned his gaze upon the report yet again: _. . . the adjustment of the phase variance between the-_

_"Here's the story of a lovely lady, who was bringing up three very lovely girls. All of them had hair of gold, like their mother, the youngest one in curls."_

Megatron howled in wordless rage and agony. It was starting over? He slammed his console, bringing up the video connection to the command center. "Soundwave! Slaggit! Find out who's doing that, destroy their device, and then destroy them!"

Starscream's smiling face leaned into view. "Of course, _mighty_ Megatron. We don't want your brilliant scheming to be interrupted."

"_Starscream_." Megatron let his tone do all the threatening.

"We're searching," Starscream replied, his optics shining with blatantly feigned innocence.

Megatron felt a flash of suspicion, but the prank wasn't Starscream's style. Skywarp, likely. Even Rumble. But not his. "Search more quickly."

"I'm sure Soundwave will locate the source shortly." He grinned and closed the link.

"Glitch." Megatron glared at the blank screen, knowing his second-in-command had enjoyed his display of discomfort.

_"That's the way we all became the Brady Bunch! The Bra~dy Bunch! The Bra~dy Bunch! That's the way we all became the Brady Bunch!"_

Megatron hissed through his vocal component. Humans could have voices even more grating than Starscream's at times. However, blessed silence bloomed through the room then, and he shuttered his optics momentarily. Perhaps the culprit had overheard his wrath and decided better of their course of action.

_"Here's the story of a lovely lady, who was bringing up three very lovely girls /All of them had hair of gold, like their mother, the youngest one in curls."_

Slamming his fist into his desk, Megatron stood and stomped from his office, ready to kill the prankster himself. He took the hallway at a good pace and swept into the control room, where Soundwave, Starscream, and Rumble were working on tracing the signal.

"Well?" He crossed his arms, making sure the business end of his cannon was pointed at Starscream's head.

"Signal is on a low frequency," Soundwave said, pointing to an analysis on the main computer screen. "Our systems are confusing it with several harmonics generated by the ship's computers. Physical search with handheld devices recommended."

Megatron opened his mouth to reply, only for the song to grow louder: _"Till the one day when the lady met this fellow, and they knew it was much more than a hunch: That this group would somehow form a family. That's the way we all became the Brady Bunch!"_ He narrowed his optics, deciding dismemberment was a legitimate punishment for the mech responsible. "Fine," he said. "Carry out the search at once."

Starscream snickered. "What's wrong? A happy little fleshling song too much for our _great_ leader?"

"The only reason it doesn't annoy you is because your vocal processor makes you talk in a screech. Your audio components were likely desensitized eons ago." Megatron turned and headed back for his office. "Order everyone currently on base to assist, and none of you get breaks until the device is found."

Starscream's mocking "Of course, _mighty_ Megatron" added itself to the song as it started over yet again: _"Here's the story of a lovely lady, who was bringing up three very lovely girls. All of them had hair of gold, like their mother, the youngest one in curls."_

With a snarl, Megatron punched the wall as he walked, leaving behind a rather sizable dent. "Skywarp, it had better not be you." He retreated to his office for another attempt at reading Shockwave's report.

After accidentally rereading the same paragraph five times in a row, Megatron planted his monitor in his office wall and glared at the plume of smoke arising from the debris.

* * *

Megatron lay on his berth, staring at his cabin's ceiling. Five cycles. The slagging song had been repeating on a loop for _five cycles,_ and no one could find the source, even after scouring the ship. He was now not content to simply dismember the prankster. He was going to do some research, find out the identities of the humans who wrote the song, and kill them, too. The horrendous noise was grating on his neural circuitry so badly he couldn't even go into recharge.

_"Till the one day when the lady met this fellow, and they knew it was much more than a hunch: That this group would somehow form a family. That's the way we all became the Brady Bunch! The Bra~dy Bunch! The Bra~dy Bunch! That's the way we all became the Brady Bunch!"_

An amazing processor ache blossomed in Megatron's CPU, and he prepared himself for the inevitable repeat. He was convinced he could recite the song backwards syllable by syllable at this point.

Silence.

More silence.

Megatron sat up slowly, feeling a ridiculously overwhelming surge of hope.

Utter, beautiful, glorious silence.

He opened his comm. link. //Megatron to Soundwave. I assume this means you found the device.//

A very uncomfortable pause. //Negative. Device has not been found.//

//_What?_// The wave of foreboding that hit him was almost tangible.

Two astroseconds passed, then the PA flared back to life with the sound of several drunk, out-of-tune humans singing: _"99 bottles of beer on the wall! 99 bottles of beer! Take one down, pass it around. 98 bottles of beer on the wall!"_

"No," Megatron whispered, struggling not to blow a hole straight through his cabin door from his rage. //Soundwave, if you don't find that device within a breem you'll spend the rest of your existence as spare parts for our communications relay!//

//Understood. Soundwave out.// The voice was emotionless as ever.

Megatron lowered himself back on his berth and resumed staring at the ceiling. The song, if it could be called that, must have been sung by ten different men, all of them beginning on a different note. The result was positively painful.

_"97 bottles of beer on the wall! 97 bottles of beer! Take one down pass it around. 96 bottles of beer on the wall!"_

Megatron rubbed both temples with his fingers. He had to force his processor off of the music somehow. The only way to do that was to engage in one of his two favorite activities: fighting or plotting.

"Fighting," he said to himself, climbing off his berth. Yes, that was it. He would go pick a fight with the Autobots just to get out of the base until Soundwave fixed the problem. Given all the grumbling over the _Brady Bunch_ song, he suspected he'd have plenty of volunteers for the mission. He wouldn't have to give an order-they'd be begging him to let them come along.

So he'd be sure to leave Starscream behind on purpose.

Content with his plan, Megatron left his quarters and made his way to the control room, where he got what was possibly the worst shock of the solar cycle thus far: the mech at the comm. was Starscream. And Starscream was _singing._

"88 bottles of beer on the wall-" Starscream was singing in time with the humans. "-88 bottles of beer! Take one down, pass it around, 87 bottles of beer on the wall!"

For an astrosecond, Megatron's audio processors glitched from the mere _sound_ of Starscream's singing voice, which was so high-pitched and raspy it nearly shorted his neural net. He aimed his fusion cannon at Starscream, who saw him and jumped just in time to avoid a blast to his wing. "Stop singing, slaggit! Are you insane?" Megatron paused, considered the stupidity of his own question, then continued. "Never mind. What do you think you're doing _participating_ in a flesh creature's song?"

With wide optics, Starscream stared up at him from the floor, then stood. "Nothing, really. I'm simply highly adaptable to repugnant, annoying, impossible, and exhausting situations." He smirked.

Megatron raised his cannon again, easily reading between the lines of that insult.

"A bit testy today, are we?" Starscream held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. "Soundwave has every mech in the base searching. He even called in the Insecticons, who are excited about the thought of eating the offending device and prankster when they're found."

Megatron lowered his weapon and considered his second-in-command. Knowing Starscream's psychology, Megatron realized he was in a quandary. One, he really couldn't afford to pull his soldiers away from the search. Two, if he left the base alone, Starscream would accuse him of weakness, which was unfortunately exactly what it would look like.

"Did you need something, _leader_?" Starscream asked.

"Have the Autobots contacted us concerning Jazz?" he asked.

Starscream shook his head. "Not yet. Laserbeak's last report indicated they were still searching the area where we captured him, but even the Autobots can't be so stupid as to not realize we have him."

Megatron pondered the issue of their prisoner. Jazz was Prime's Special Ops chief, and everyone knew how much he loved music . . .

_"76 b-bottles of beer on the wall! 76 b-bottles of be~er!"_

The humans' singing was getting progressively worse. Megatron held in a sigh. "Did Soundwave check the brig?"

"No transmissions detected, plus the comm. link blackout is solid."

Frowning, Megatron considered the possibility that Jazz had uploaded a packet in a data burst, but that still left the problem of what he'd uploaded the music _to._ Granted, Megatron could torture him to find out, but if he did that, Jazz would know he was successfully irritating his enemies. Assuming the problem really had originated with Jazz.

_No,_ Megatron thought. _I'll save torturing Jazz for a last resort. If he's responsible, I refuse to give the glitch the satisfaction of knowing his ploy worked. Besides, I've put up with Starscream for five million sellar cycles. I can withstand anything._ "Fine," he finally replied. "Make sure no one slacks off searching. If they do, shoot them."

Starscream grinned. "My pleasure."

Deprived of his plan to fight and unable to plot properly with all the noise, Megatron headed toward the brig for his third favorite activity: torture. If he wasn't going to torture Jazz over the music, he could at least torture him for information.

* * *

20 joors.

Megatron had been listening to "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" on automatic repeat for _20 joors_. If he'd been human, his hair would have been sticking straight up, his eyes would be bloodshot, and he would have broken out in hives. But he wasn't human. He was a Decepticon. A proud leader.

So he'd simply planted every piece of office furniture he had into his office walls, blown a hole through Skywarp's left wing for laughing, and welded Frenzy to the command center's floor as a reminder to Soundwave of his fate if he didn't fix the problem.

To top that, his interrogation of Jazz had been utterly fruitless, and the fragger had treated the session like a trip to the wash racks.

Giving up on any semblance of useful activity, Megatron had retreated to his quarters again, fallen onto his berth, offlined his audio receptors, and tried to recharge . . . only to find that his processor had absorbed the annoying song and was repeating it inside his mind.

Nothing short of a full-scale slaughter would lighten his mood now. In fact, he was seriously considering destroying the _Nemesis's_ main computer to see if that would solve the issue and having the Constructicons simply rebuild it.

Megatron sat up, struck by the beauty of the idea. Yes. Destroy the main computer. It would cripple them for a few joors, but he'd send out all the seekers to patrol and have the Stunticons on standby in the base in case of attack.

A nearly hysterical joy overtook his systems at the thought, and before he realized it, Megatron was making his way back to the control room . . . where he found Starscream sitting, his legs crossed on the console, smiling.

"Why are you smiling?" The growl had escaped Megatron on instinct.

Starscream laughed. "Oh, it's not that bad. Reminds me of the high-grade songs we used to sing before the war."

Megatron decided once and for all that his SIC was completely and utterly stark-raving mad. "I should have you committed." He turned and pointed his cannon at the computer, which brought Starscream scrambling to his feet.

"_What are you doing!_" he shrieked, grabbing his arm and jerking the cannon downward. The blast hit the floor instead.

Megatron grabbed him by the throat. "I'm taking care of our-" He stopped abruptly as he realized his voice was louder than it had been in over a solar cycle.

Silence.

Either "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" had been programmed to play 99 times or Soundwave had discovered the device.

Megatron released Starscream and secretly basked in the stunning beauty of a silence broken only by the soft hum of computers. "Finally," he said, opening his comm. link. //Megatron to Soundwave. Did you find the device?//

A very long pause met this inquiry. //Negative. Device unfound. Tests using my disruption waves have also proven ineffective.//

//Frenzy will start losing body parts soon.// Megatron shifted his gaze to the obviously terrified red-and-black mech and sneered.

The main computer beeped as a transmission arrived. Megatron ignored Soundwave's reply as he checked the queue, which indicated they had received a text-only message. "Odd," he said, but the code on the message was definitely Shockwave's. Was the musical phenomenon disrupting their connection to Cybertron?

"That's not like Shockwave," Starscream noted, obviously suspicious. "Don't open it. It may be a trick of some kind."

Megatron hit the controls, bringing the entire message up onscreen. "It's likely that whatever device-"

The computer's screen immediately erupted into a grainy video of human women in short skirts. Suddenly music was blasting through the ship's PA again: _"Oh, Mickey, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind. Hey Mickey!"_

Megatron stared in horror as every screen in the command center bloomed to life with the same grainy images: dancing human women in ponytails, jumping around and singing. "What in the fraggin' Pit is that!"

With a visible shudder, Starscream turned toward him. "_That_ is what humans call a 'music video.' Apparently one of their broadcasted television channels plays them."

Megatron managed to smirk. "Is the mighty, fearless Starscream disturbed by pathetic human images?"

Raising one optic ridge, Starscream simply returned the smirk. "Tell me that the sight of jiggly organic flesh doesn't turn your tanks."

"I'm hardly so easy to nauseate," Megatron replied out of sheer spite. In response, a purely malicious grin blossomed across Starscream's face, and Megatron knew the brat's devious mind had just hatched something unthinkable. "Whatever you just imagined, if you do it I'll incinerate you."

Starscream just snickered.

An agonizing three kliks passed, and then the computer screens returned to normal. Megatron joined Starscream in eyeing them with total distrust.

"That was too easy," Starscream said, his voice nearly a whisper.

"For once, we're in agreement." Megatron found that he'd matched his SIC's quiet tone. "Don't touch the computers for now."

Starscream nodded.

Feeling the springs and cables in his body releasing their tension, Megatron swiped a data pad and headed back to his quarters. At least he could resume plotting, and using the pad to draw his plans would ensure the computer network was not disturbed.

Entering his quarters, Megatron retrieved a cube of high-grade energon and sat on his berth, reclining. He took a sip, savoring the taste of such rare fine-quality energon, and settled into his beloved pastime: imagining new ways of destroying the Autobots. Grinning to himself as a particularly nasty weapon idea came to mind, he activated the data pad and loaded the design program.

The screen flickered and then flashed, suddenly showing the hopping forms of human women. _"Oh, Mickey, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind. Hey Mickey!"_

With a scream of incalculable rage, Megatron hurled the data pad at the wall, shattering it into thousands of metal shards.

* * *

In the brig, Jazz lay on his narrow berth, arms crossed under his head. He tapped his foot against the wall to a Duran Duran song he'd downloaded into his memory banks and grinned at the ceiling. If his data packet had downloaded and executed properly, the Decepticons should be in the middle of a visual onslaught in which every computer and data pad touched would automatically play the video for "Hey Mickey." Megatron had been in an unusually foul mood when he'd come to interrogate him, so Jazz was certain that "The Brady Bunch Theme" and "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" had been launched successfully. Granted, he had a few lovely dents thanks to Megatron's rage, but it was nothing he couldn't take. Besides, it was worth it to see the nearly glitched look on Megatron's face.

_It's probably time for somethin' a bit more complicated,_ Jazz mused, shifting through his massive collection of information on human literature, film, music, and theater. With some relish he remembered the whimsical book _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy._ "Perfect!" he said aloud before he could stop himself.

Yes, indeed. It was beautiful. Jazz wasn't sure why it was taking his friends so long to rescue him, but he'd be sure to have fun in the meantime. In fact, if he had his way, Megatron and his merry Decepticreeps would never be the same.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you to all who read and review and to Darkhelmetj for betareading. I'm currently cooking up evil ideas for chapter 2._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: You all are freakin' awesome. Thank you for the warm reception! This chapter contains liberal allusions to the book/series and movie of __The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy__, but knowledge of the series is not necessary for the reading of this chapter._

**Chapter Two: Megatron Learns to Hate Inanimate Objects**

Morning came to the _Nemesis_—or what passed for morning on the wretched, overly organic planet Megatron meant to plunder. Not that morning made any difference to those living on a sunken space cruiser. Or helped Megatron's mood. Or really had any meaning at all when _every single slagging computer in the base could not be touched._

Standing over Soundwave's shoulder, Megatron glared at the main screen in the control room, where the video of hopping human women had been replaced by a clip Megatron recognized as a scene from the bizarre human space opera _The Return of the Jedi._ Normally the film was a source of dark amusement for Megatron, who found the 'special effects' pathetic, the portrayal of galactic life skewed, and the 'space age' technology either quaint or impossible. At worst, it threw him into a rage to see a powerful being like Darth Vader betray such sentimental weakness and die for his whiny, incompetent offspring. Today, however, he found himself watching the scene of Jabba the Hutt entertained by . . .

. . . a scantily dressed, green, 'alien' woman jiggling in something like a dance.

"As soon as Starscream returns from patrol, I'll incinerate him as promised," Megatron said, barely restraining his temper. The sight of the jiggly flesh creature _did_ turn his tanks—so completely, in fact, he couldn't even drink his breakfast. And Starscream had managed to time his tweaking of "Hey Mickey" to coincide with his departure from the _Nemesis,_ sparing himself the torture. "That bolt-bat," he hissed _sotto voce_. "The fool never knows when to stop."

The transmission ceased abruptly, and Soundwave glanced over his shoulder. "Exact frequency differentiated from the 1,243 similar harmonics. Audio-visual signals blocked."

"Finally," Megatron replied, not feeling the least bit gracious—if he could ever be said to feel such an emotion. Although he suspected the culprit was Jazz, Megatron couldn't imagine how a _prisoner_ could access their computer network. However, Starscream had clearly been tampering with the footage, so he wasn't above suspicion, either. There was only one way to find out. "Have the computer calculate the most likely source or cause for the interference." He paused. "And you may detach Frenzy from the floor."

Soundwave nodded. "Thank you, Lord Megatron." He turned to the computer controls, feeding in the input. When the answer didn't present itself within a klik, he tilted his head in a mild show of consternation. "Computer is analyzing multiple variables."

"Then contact me when it's finished." Megatron headed for the door, deciding decent recharge was in order. Struck by an idea, he stopped and smirked. Despite the disruption of his base, he had to have _someone_ on patrol. "Also, contact Starscream and tell him to pull double patrol shifts, because he was the seeker least affected by our musical disturbance and therefore has had the most rest."

"As you command," Soundwave replied.

Megatron snickered to himself and walked to the turboshaft door, not pausing since it contained sensors to detect one's presence. The door, however, cycled open slowly and _spoke_.

"Thank you for making a simple door very happy," the door said, sighing in pleasure.

"What the _frag?_" Megatron whirled to face Soundwave again.

Soundwave's gaze was riveted to the door as though it had either personally insulted him or committed an obscene act. For someone whose entire face was hidden, he still managed to convey distinct horror through his suddenly rigid posture and his clenched fists. After a moment, he turned back to the computer and hit several buttons. "Source of malfunction unknown."

"Frenzy has to stay welded to the floor." Megatron swept from the room without further ado, ordering the lift to take him to the officer's deck.

When the lift stopped, the door opened with a contented sigh once more. "Thank you for making a simple door very happy."

Feeling his optic ridge twitch, Megatron exited the lift without submitting to his urge to shoot the door. "I'm surrounded by fools," he muttered as he headed to his quarters. "Incompetent, unimaginative, unresourceful _fools._" He stopped before his quarters and entered the access code to the lock. Gathering his patience, he awaited the inevitable response.

The door sighed happily. "Thank you for making a simple door so ecstatic. I shall reward you!"

Megatron braced himself, but it was too late. The door emitted a song: _"I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony! I'd like to hold it in my arms and keep it comp—"_

Without hesitation, Megatron fired his fusion cannon at the door controls, blasting them from the wall. His door wouldn't lock now, but no one was powerful enough to kill him anyway. And _anything,_ even death, was better than listening to cheery humans sing of peace and joy.

Snarling, Megatron retreated into his quarters, and that was the moment the mighty leader of the Decepticons realized nothing might be quite right in his base ever again. His berth was swaying faintly on its hinges, and the movement was causing the hydraulic system to emit odd sounds:

_Flooooooo……loooooooop._ The berth rocked to one side. _Flooooooo……loooooooop._ It rocked back.

Megatron rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. //Soundwave, do you copy?//

//Yes, Lord Megatron. Proceed.//

Pausing, Megatron struggled with how odd his words would sound. //I've discovered a new glitch. My berth is . . . "flolloping."//

Silence. //Please repeat.//

It was hopeless, Megatron decided. //I think you'd have to see it to understand. It's rocking back and forth. Take a look.//

//Accessing security camera 152.//

Megatron heard the buzz as his cabin's personal security system alerted him that the camera was on. No one could access the camera without his direct permission, and if they hacked it, it set off an alarm. He waited, watching the swaying berth and imagining he could smell Soundwave's logic circuits melting.

//I . . . see.// Soundwave's tone gave the impression he had just witnessed something pornographic. //I will begin analysis of the . . . "flolloping" . . . berth.//

//Be quick about it.// Megatron smirked to himself. //I suspect your berth is doing the same. Megatron out.//

Leaving Soundwave to ponder the horror of his own possibly flolloping berth, Megatron sneaked up on his, like a turbofox stalking a turbohare. Then he grabbed it, jerking it still. "Stop, slaggit! I'm going to get some recharge even if I have to blow up half this miserable planet."

The berth exhaled an hydraulic, bubbling hiss that sounded almost sympathetic: _Globber._

_Now my berth is "globbering" at me?_ Megatron clenched his right fist, fighting the urge to blast the berth into scrap metal. "Primus!" He exhaled heavily and then climbed on the berth, which had the sense to stay still. _I'm going to double my schedule for draining this planet dry. Mechanical devices never did such strange things on Cybertron, even when glitched._

Distracting himself with lovely daydreams of killing Optimus Prime, Megatron finally fell into recharge.

* * *

After flying across the entire U.S. and back twice, an exhausted Starscream returned to base. Soundwave answered his request to raise the tower, and Starscream rested against the lift's wall on his ride down to the command center. He smirked to himself, wondering if Megatron had enjoyed the endless replays of the _Return of the Jedi_ clip. "What a fool to pretend he wouldn't be as disgusted as I!" he muttered to himself. He had to wonder, though, if Megatron wouldn't attack him the instant he saw him.

Reaching the main deck, the lift door opened with a sigh. "Thank you for making a simple door very happy."

"What in Primus's name is that about?" Starscream asked, exiting the lift.

Megatron turned from his position behind Soundwave's chair. Fortunately, he looked rested, so Starscream knew he could count on keeping his body intact . . . for the time being.

"It would seem every door in the base has been reprogrammed to feel happiness," Megatron replied, "as well as express it. Constantly."

Starscream grimaced, his tanks turning at the mere concept. "_Programmed_ to be always _joyful_? That's disgusting and perverted." He snorted. "This definitely has to be the work of one of us, but who could it be? I've already grilled Skywarp about it, and you know how poor he is at hiding his giddiness over a good prank."

"I'm thinking it's you." Megatron's upper lip curled in a sneer. "You're both twisted and stupid enough to do something like this, and if your own boasts are to be believed, you have the technical knowledge as well. Plus you obviously inserted that footage of the green, jiggling flesh creature into the video loop."

The idea was so preposterous Starscream skipped the fear stage and went straight to rage. "What? I would _never_ lower myself to such _baseness._ I have far better things to do with my time!" He paused. "Although you're right about the substituted video clip." He crossed his arms. "I was just testing to see if your constitution was as great as you claimed, _mighty_ Megatron."

Megatron growled, leveled his fusion cannon, and fired at Starscream, who dived to the side. The blast clipped his left wing and left it smoking, but the damage was minor. _A warning shot,_ he thought, biting back the next words that came to mind.

"Obviously yours wasn't," Megatron said, turning back to face Soundwave's monitor, "or you wouldn't have timed the switch to take place after you left on patrol."

Starscream smirked, but his curiosity overcame his desire to argue back. "What is Soundwave working on?" He joined Megatron and glanced at the monitor.

"The computer is lagging," Soundwave replied. "Attempting to determine cause."

"Lagging?"

Megatron frowned. "We asked it to calculate the most likely source or cause of all this interference—five cycles ago."

"Five?" Starscream stared at the computer. "It shouldn't even have taken a breem."

"I _know._" Megatron leaned over Soundwave. "Well?"

"Computer processor speed unchanged," Soundwave replied, typing a few commands into the console. "System memory clearing. Answer display on screen." He hit a final button.

In large Cybertronian glyphs that filled the screen, the computer reported a simple number: 42.

Megatron clenched his fists. "That's the answer? 42 _what_? Sector 42? 42 lines of code? 42 as on some frequency? What does it mean, _42_?"

Soundwave leaned away from the computer as though it carried a viral contagion, and Starscream felt his own confusion turn into amusement. "Oh, that's _priceless,_" he said, laughing. "It's cheeky, in fact. Whoever is doing this really wants us to turn him into slag."

Megatron and Soundwave both turned to glare at him.

"What?" he asked. "It _is_ devious. Brilliant, even. Might as well give the fragger that." He smirked. "Maybe you should, or you may end up like the doors—reprogrammed to be happy about everything." Megatron raised his cannon again, and Starscream threw up his hands in surrender.

Before either of them could say anything, however, the PA system flared on, playing a laugh track with applause from some human TV show. Then that cut out, and a deep rich voice spoke over the clicking of glassware: _"Yeah, that's right, you handsome devil."_

All three mechs stared at the security cameras which dotted the room.

"Perfect," Megatron hissed. "Now whoever it is has hacked the security network and is using TV clips to tailor-make the interference."

A male voice with a British accent blasted through the speakers. _"By George, I think he's got it!"_

Frenzy, who was still welded to the floor and had been silent during the entire exchange, finally spoke up. "We are so slagged now."

"It said I was handsome," Starscream said, both amused and complimented.

_"Oh, yeah, that's right. Yer sexy, baby!_

Starscream grinned and flicked his wings subtly. "At least it's got taste."

"Starscream!" Megatron was suddenly towering over him.

The speakers crackled faintly, then a female voice came through. "_Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such a naughty temper!_"

Megatron howled and whirled toward the computer, firing at the console. Starscream threw up his arms, shielding his face and spark chamber as metallic shards flew through the room. "Are you _insane_?" he asked when the smoke cleared.

"Not at all." Megatron glowered at him. "Now get your 'handsome,' 'sexy' aft in gear and fix this mess, or I'll rip off your wings and melt you down in a smelting pit." He stalked away, heading for the turboshaft.

The door parted with a contended sigh. "Thank you for making a simple door so happy."

Megatron paused, then stepped into the lift without another word. The door hissed shut behind him.

"Wow," Starscream said, glancing at Soundwave. "He really doesn't have a sense of humor."

Soundwave didn't reply.

Shrugging, Starscream set to work, helping Soundwave fix the computer. He knew who the culprit had to be: Jazz. It fit his style, and he knew enough human cultural references to make it work. Starscream didn't know how the spy was pulling it off, but Jazz _was_ the head of the Autobot's Special Ops. Then again, Starscream also didn't care. Anything that irritated Megatron so much was worth it, so he'd just pretend he didn't know.

Keeping secrets was one of his specialties, after all.

* * *

Megatron stared at his cabin ceiling. He'd had to tame the flolloping berth again, but with that settled, he'd decided to send himself back into recharge until Soundwave and Starscream reported. Unfortunately, as it was now nighttime on the disgustingly organic planet he was temporarily calling home, the prankster had set about annoying all the mechs currently ready for recharge.

_"Insomnia is a serious condition that disrupts the sleep of millions of Americans,"_ droned a deep, male voice with that broadcast-standard, U.S. Mid-Western accent. No music or background noise accompanied this clip. _"The old folk remedies of counting sheep or counting backwards from a hundred don't work for many, and for the few it does, it's simply a Band-Aid solution for a larger problem._

Although he didn't know what a "Band-Aid" was, Megatron suspected the same could be said for his current prankster problem.

_"Some research has suggested that drinking warm milk can induce sleepiness, but a growing number of Americans are turning to medication. Unfortunately, sleeping pills can be highly addictive and are not without side effects."_

Megatron decided that the human condition of insomnia could be cured just by listening to this male drone on and on. Forcing himself to tune out the voice, Megatron gave up on recharging and turned to the only activity he had left that could possibly bring him any pleasure: imagining countless ways to kill Starscream.

"Glitch," Megatron snarled, just thinking of that ready smirk and mocking voice. It was useful to have a nearby punching bag, but Starscream sometimes made that convenience not worthwhile. What was more, the slagger seemed impossible to kill! Granted, Megatron had never fired at his spark chamber, but any other 'bot would have been permanently deactivated from taking half the damage Megatron had aimed Starscream's way. Then again, perhaps death was too benevolent.

"I could weld him to the _Nemesis's_ hull and let the sea water slowly eat him," Megatron mused. "It would take _vorns_ to damage our alloys enough to kill him, after all." He laughed at the beauty of the torture. "Or I could have the Constructicons reformat him into a _car._ Unable to fly and looking like an Autobot . . . that would serve him! Then we could all use him for target practice." He began laughing again at the sheer brilliance and cruelty of the idea—the Evil Laugh of Doom, as he knew his troops called it.

"I could just paint him solid grey and then scratch him up." Megatron relaxed as he imagined Starscream's horror. "He thinks he's so terribly handsome, after all. Or maybe I should get him a pet human. A little girl, perhaps, who would cover him in glitter and garishly 'cute' stickers of various mythical animals. Or a young male who thinks he's a hot shot at flying jets. Humans are so pathetic, I'm sure the fleshling would crash Starscream dozens of times if I gave him the correct override controls."

Placated by the Siren's song of revenge, Megatron fell into recharge . . . only to have a nightmare that he'd finally killed Starscream, but the brat returned as a ghost to haunt him for all eternity.

Megatron awakened and bolted into a sitting position, unable to clear the static from his processor in his dismay. That arrogant glitch and his screechy voice hounding him forever? Megatron shivered in spite of himself. "Enough," he whispered, bringing his emotions sternly under control. "Ghosts are a silly human belief, anyway. That is beyond plausible."

Still, the dream was troubling enough to cause Megatron to leave his cabin in search of his resident traitor. His warning diodes told him Starscream was up to no good. Sure enough, he found him in the computer archival room, looking through files.

Megatron towered in the doorway, letting his shadow fall over the seated Starscream. "What are you doing?"

"Searching for references to flolloping berths—er, beds—and the number 42," Starscream replied. "It seems our prankster has a liking for _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy._"

Megatron narrowed his optics. "Is that so? Well, I think _you_ are the prankster, and you're researching your next song or movie clip."

Jumping to his feet, Starscream pointed his finger at him in clear rage. "You still think _I'd_ be that petty? Besides, we both know it's Jazz. Or has the _mighty_ Megatron been duped by something so small and insignificant?"

"If you are so convinced of the source of the problem," Megatron countered, raising his fusion cannon, "then why have you not tortured Jazz for information or punished him? Why are you wasting your time searching for the Earth cultural references?"

"Because _you_ already tortured him." Starscream crossed his arms and smirked. "I assumed that you, being so _powerful_, had already retrieved any relevant information."

_Slagging glitch,_ Megatron thought, preparing to fire.

A _boom_ echoed through the ship, rattling all objects not bolted to the deck. The red alert klaxon roared to life, followed shortly by Soundwave over the PA:

//Autobot attack. Autobot attack. Decepticons to battle stations.//

The droning human voice that had been filtering through the PA was abruptly cut off.

Starscream snorted. "Told you it was Jazz."

With a sigh born from putting up with Starscream for millions of years, Megatron hoped the entire Autobot force had come to rescue Jazz. He needed a good slaughter.

* * *

Jazz was trying to decide what his next strategy would be when he heard the explosion. The _Nemesis_ shuddered faintly under the impact, and Jazz laughed, knowing his tenure in the 'con's brig was over. Sure enough, after a few kliks, a sizzling sound told Jazz his fellow Autobots were cutting through the cell's blast door. He sat up, crossing his legs and arms, and waited patiently as the glowing red outline of a makeshift exit appeared in the metal.

"I'll take it from here, ya'll." Ironhide's voice, still muffled by the door.

With a resounding _thud,_ the cut-out piece of metal flew across the room, revealing Ironhide, Prowl, Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe.

Prowl ducked into the cell. "I suppose you would like to leave now."

"What took ya so long?" Jazz asked, smiling at his best friend.

Prowl shook his head. "When Mirage determined what you were doing to the 'cons, I couldn't get anyone to stop laughing long enough to listen to my rescue plan."

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe began snickering, and Ironhide chuckled as well.

"It was priceless!" Sideswipe, apparently unable to stop himself, burst into peals of laughter.

"You totally outstripped every prank we've ever come up with," Sunstreaker said, sounding half-awed and half-jealous. "You really raised the bar."

"Primus spare me," Prowl muttered.

Jazz hopped to his feet and grinned at them all. "Hey, what canna 'bot do? I's stuck here coolin' my heels, anyway. Thought I should have a bit o' fun."

"You are completely incorrigible." Prowl took his elbow and pulled him from the cell, but Jazz caught the faint amusement in his voice.

"I thought that was why ya like me!" Jazz feigned being hurt, but he knew he failed miserably. Tormenting the 'cons had just been too much fun.

Prowl gave him the small, wry smile that he reserved just for him. "_Jazz._ Let's go home. The 'cons will arrive any moment."

Jazz laughed and ran with his friends to the _Nemesis's_ new "door," wondering just how successful he'd ultimately been at driving Megatron insane.

* * *

_A/N: Megatron's Evil Laugh of Doom © '80s Villains United (and Frank Welker). Skeletor,King Zarkon, Cobra Commander, Megatron/Galvatron, and Mumm-Ra, how we miss you. LOL_

_Let me just say that writing humor during a depressive episode is especially hard, although therapeutic. Anyway, a big thanks to Darkhelmetj for betareading—as well as helping me brainstorm—this story, especially since you've been so busy. I guess I really paid you back for converting me to __Naruto__ by converting you to TF, huh? What goes around comes around, so you were totally doomed. :P _

_Thanks for all the faves and alerts! Normally, I send PMs to thank people for their reviews, but work's been so busy for the last year I had to stop doing that. Therefore, I'd like to call out to (let me take a huge breath here) Amanda Saitou, Lynxie, Dark Maria, NybCR, StarKin, Siv the Fish, allycat18, meteor prime, PrancingTiger86, Shadir, TheSpittingAlpaca, Hiezen, Wol Lo, 13sTalktheakatuskuki13, Skeleton Toes, Hot Rod's Girl, VampireArgonian92, Ri2, darkhelmetj, Mirage Shinkiro, Starfire201, and shimmershadow30._


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